Can You Hear Me?
by CrystalIceSweet
Summary: The world can be a scary place; especially when you wake up 70 years in the future and everything has changed. The fight with Loki had given Steve an anchor to reality, but with the world at peace, he feels the last of his sanity slowly escaping him. That is, until he stumbles upon a radio show, with a host whose voice can only be described as…magical. Pairings undecided. Slash.HPx


**Summary**: The world can be a scary place; especially when you wake up 70 years in the future and everything has changed. The fight with Loki had given Steve an anchor to reality, but with the world at peace, he feels the last of his sanity slowly escaping him. That is, until he stumbles upon a radio show, with a host whose voice can only be described as…magical. Slash.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

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><p><em>And that's it for all the advertisement we will have to endure for tonight. Welcome back, dear listeners, to The Mystic, a show where we talk about everything and nothing, while listening to music so old that your grandparents probably won't even know. I'm your host Hadrian P and tonight's topic is: the meaning of life. I know, I know. You must be thinking how on earth can we talk about a subject that's so broad…and in a 2 hours time constraint at that. But, that's the beauty of this show. <em>

_As always, my line will open in a few moments so that you can call to share your opinion of what your life means to you. Don't be shy. There are no right or wrong. Unlike lotteries, everyone here is a winner._

_And with that said, I'll be waiting…_

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><p><strong>New York<strong>

**2010 November 21**

"You can't continue on like this," Natasha said, sitting on the edge of Steve's bed, watching the young soldier pick up a brush only to drop it after a few seconds.

"What? Painting?" Steve asked, purposely obtusely, refusing to look at the assassin. He knew that Natasha meant well, but sometimes, he wished she would just drop the subject and go on with her life. Steve really didn't need her here so often to remind him just how broken he really was. His own incessant nightmares do that job well enough.

"Steve," Natasha sighed, passing a tired hand through her hair, wincing when one of her fingers caught on a particularly stubborn knot. She huffed in annoyance, tugging for a second before the knot finally came free with a few strand of blond hair falling to the ground. She had dyed her usual red curls blond for her latest mission and hadn't had time to wash it off just yet. It was weird for Steve to see her as something else than a red head.

"Natasha," Steve repeated, mimicking her tone. He still refused to turn to look at her though, preferring to stare at the blank canvas in front of him, urging his brain to come up with something to paint.

Truth be told, painter's block wasn't something Steve was particularly used to. Ever since he had discovered art at the age of 5, he always had something in mind he had wanted to put on paper; his mother's rare smiles, the cute little puppy from down the road, the beautiful boy from the corner shop he knew he shouldn't like, but couldn't help be attracted to anyhow.

But now…

"Steve!" Natasha reprimanded, eyes narrowing at her friend, "Are you even listening to me?"

"I am," Steve assured her, even though he wasn't. Natasha, he had soon discovered, was stubborn as a mule with a fiery temper that can scare any man in to submission. Steve, despite his tall stature, wasn't an exception to the rule. Natasha, like Pepper, was scary in a way Nazi dictators with huge automatics just wasn't. It was just safer to pretend they're right for his own sanity. It was one of the lessons he had learned from Tony.

"No you're not," Natasha snapped, moving to stand, "Steve, I'm nagging you about this because I am your friend. I am worried about you. You stay hoarded in your apartment all day; you don't answer our calls; you don't go out. This isn't living! This is merely existing."

Steve's lips pursed in annoyance, his grip on the brush he had just picked up, tightening with Natasha's every word. Deep down, he knew she was right; he knew what he was doing from morning to night wasn't healthy in any sense of the word. But, what Natasha couldn't understand was that this was the only way Steve knew how to survive.

The world can be a pretty scary place, especially when you wake up one morning to find yourself 70 years in the future. For the months after his awakening, the fight with Loki had been the only thing to ground him to reality. With so many civilians at risk, the soldier in Steve knew he couldn't lose it. Fighting on was the only option.

And he had fought. He had fought with all his might, with his blood and sweat; he had fought for the future of the Earth; a future he shouldn't even technically be alive to see. But when all the fighting was over and the world returned to its peaceful state, Steve lost the only thing that kept him going. Nightmares he had thought gone came back with a vengeance. Going out made him want to hurl most of the time. Remembering that all his friends and family were gone made him want to punch the nearest wall. With all that said, he was a danger to people around him; it was simply better for everyone if he stayed out of the way.

"Natasha," Steve hissed, "Drop it."

Natasha's mouth opened once before closing, her body finally slumped in defeat. She shook her head as she sighed, eyes looking suspiciously wet. But before Steve could do something about it though, she had already shrugged on her jacket and was heading towards the door.

She left without another word.

_It's for the best_, Steve decided, eyes never leaving the canvas. Natasha didn't deserve to be weighed down by his problems. She had her own life; she was a modern woman. He was just a broken old man who has probably already outlived his purpose.

_If it's for the best, why do I feel so empty inside?_

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><p><strong>New York<strong>

**2010 November 22**

"Hey buddy, can I come in?"

Tony Stark's smile was a little rigid, but that can probably be attributed to the fact that he was wearing a light jacket when the weather was arctic cold outside. Winter this year had started shockingly early with Mother Nature delivering temperatures as low as minus 20 Celsius at the beginning of November. Steve wouldn't be surprised to see snow some time soon.

"Of course," he replied, when he saw Tony shiver a little. He wondered absentmindedly how anyone could let him go out dressed like that. Wasn't Pepper supposed to be living at Stark Tower now that she and Tony are back together? Surely the woman would have stopped Tony from being such an idiot. Maybe she was working today…

"Thank you," Tony said, making his way inside. The billionaire let out a sigh of relief as the hot air – courtesy of the air conditioning unit – enveloped his body. He shrugged out of his coat and deposited the package he had brought on to the living room table.

"Did you bring me a gift?" Steve tried to smile, but as usual, it fell flat. Tony, however, pretended not to notice and beamed back at him.

"I did actually," he gestured for Steve to come over. Steve did, with some anticipation, wondering just what the other man had decided was an adequate gift. Knowing Tony, it was probably something extremely shiny and expensive; in other words, everything Steve did not want.

"Open it," Tony said, when Steve didn't make a move to do so. "You'll like it."

With a sigh, Steve did.

"A radio?" he asked in confusion as he recognized the object.

It was indeed a radio, but not one of those modern ones that he had seen in shops. From its outward appearance, this particular radio looked like something Steve would actually own back in the days. In fact, on second inspection, it was something that Steve really did own back in the days. His mother, after all, had been a big radio fan and had saved up money for weeks to be able to afford a second-hand radio that a friend of hers no longer wanted. It may have been a little banged up at places, but she had loved that thing like her second child. Steve could remember growing up to her beautiful voice singing along to the tunes.

The memory nearly made him choke back tears.

"Steve?" Tony asked hesitantly when Steve didn't react, "Steve!"

"I'm sorry," Steve said, finally turning to the man, "Memories."

Tony nodded, understanding perfectly well how powerful memories can be.

"It's just a reproduction," Tony continued as if Steve wasn't forcing back tears, "The real thing is way too brittle to be handled without special equipment. This particular model is one of the most accurate reproductions I've seen. Of course, it works as well so you can listen to it whenever you want. I figured if we can't bring you to the world, we can at least bring the world to you."

"Thank you," Steve said sincerely, "Thank you. It's the nicest thing someone has done for me in a long time."

"Well," Tony shrugged a little uncomfortably, "I'm a genius after all."

Shaking his head a little at the feigned arrogance, Steve let Tony help him bring the radio out of the box and deposit it on the table. The installation process took about 10 minutes and after everything was in order, Tony quickly told Steve how to operate it.

"I guess I should leave you to your radio then," he said when he was sure Steve wouldn't accidently break the thing, "Enjoy."

Steve knew that he should ask Tony to stay – being the polite thing to do and all, but all he truly wanted was to sit back and enjoy his new companion. So he simply nodded and shown the man to the door.

"Thank you for bringing this," he told him one last time.

Tony just smiled.

"It was my pleasure," he said, before turning around and walked down the stairs.

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><p><em>Ding, ding, ding. Unfortunately, that marks the end of tonight's show. I would like to thank every one of you for listening and a special round of applause to those who called in to share their opinion. <em>

_For the 1-minute wrap-up I am allowed, I would like to finish by saying that if there was one thing we learned tonight, is that life does not have a specific meaning. Some people may say that their friends and family gave meaning to their life and others may consider their job the meaning of their life. Whatever it is, if it makes you happy, then you are on the right track. For those who still haven't found their life calling, do not worry. It's not something that can be rushed. For the main time, just smile and enjoy every moment for what it is. _

_And that's all for tonight everyone. Once again, I'm your host Hadrian P. and thank you all for listening to The Mystic. Good night._

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**A/N: **Hi everyone, welcome to my new story. I had this idea in my head so I decided to write it out. I wrote a story about how Harry can channel magic through food (and that got a little crack-ish), but this one, Harry can channel his magic through his voice. Meaning, he can make people feel and do things if he put his mind to it. This one won't be designed to be funny.

Thank you for checking this out. As always, please review and tell me what you think.

I hope to see you soon.


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